My journeys, like the journeys of all of us, take place never singularly, but concurrently. In simplest terms it is the journey you take in the physical world and the way you are feeling about everything miraculous and mundane you are seeing.

London, unlike Calvino’s invisible cities, is most visible when the sun is brighter than all the stars put together.

And then I found Isis and, in a way, brought her to you.


Our destinies


Trains change destinies. This is what every philosopher discovers and the poet in the philosopher knows too intimately: the presence and absence of wings, cobalt blue, four, one out of each ankle.

My name is Cyprio. I was born centuries ago and centuries from now depending where your present Grecian shimmers. I am here because it is you I am trying to reach, fair reader, so forgive me if during this week I suspend your disbelief and transform you into a metaphor for the sake of easening in the grace and the greener grass on this side of the fiction.

But there are distances to observe before one can observe an audience like a sea to lose oneself in. And to reach a beloved as the great sonnets weep one has to overcome obstacles, and come bearing gifts.

Today one of the quests circles about a strange bird in Green Park. My first gift to you, the muses have let known,  ought be this.

I am in transit as we speak,

I, Cyprio, a stranger in a strange town in which I barely speak the colloquialisms, in search for an audience, a reader, a darling, an other, a similar, one who shares spiritual and aesthetic beliefs with whom we can achieve: transcendance.

For my poetries would fall limply, like sunlight on no columns.

Trains change destinies.


The first full-scale working railway steam locomotive was built in the United Kingdom in 1804 by Richard Trevithick, an English engineer born in Cornwall